(2015)
1 Corinthians 13:4-8
Scratchy plaid blanket Red with yellow stripes Hot and itchy underneath Claustrophobia strikes Purple and blue prisms
Well-intentioned stranger Eyeing me limp through HEB Why would you ask If I stepped on a nail? How do you know
The strings that attach me To this world Ground me Yes they sometimes Keep me from flying
No pido disculpas Por escribir Lo que siento Lo que llevo adentro Lo que vivo
I find richness In the mixture In what others disdain Young people lost Between two cultures
Destruction is fun But cannot be undone Smashed Trashed Crumpled
Strong hands Hold me down To the bed I say to them I have to go
Life is good A little luxury A cup of coffee Served with toast Consumed lazily
If you find someone That can do it Better than you Get them on your team
Don’t talk down to me I am not a child! Even children Deserve respect
Your pain is far away I hear it But I do not feel it Move closer Let me know you’re here to stay
A joke Lost in Translation You will Never
My pump Constant companion Of my disease My sensor Resembles a feeding
I cannot apologize For writing what I feel inside If it is hard to read It is harder to live I will understand
I’m watching a woman in a bikini In great shape with a swollen bell… Play with her puppy named Gatsby A Hispanic family comes The little girl dips her feet in